Bits of the Bible: Samson and Delilah
by The Shadowy Phantom
Summary: I did this for my AP English class, and received a 20 our of 15 on it. It's loosely based on the story, Samson and Delilah, and takes place in modern times.


Bober 3

Katie Bober

Pd. 2

12/12/06

Bits of the Bible

My name is Laci, and I'm a con artist and burglar. That means I use my quick thinking and powers of persuasion to separate suckers from their money. I'm not as heartless as you're probably thinking, though. I have some morals, but they tend to show up at awkward times; so, as a result, I bury them deep down again. I'm a good person at heart, you know? Anyway, I've traveled all over Europe looking for a burglary team; I was born in the San Fernando Valley in California, but since then I've been traveling all over the world. At any rate, I soon found my team a year or so ago in London, England. I didn't have any ideas as to "clients", but this one guy named John or James or something told me about this billionaire widower, Bryce Williamson. He apparently has this daughter at a fancy prep school and never sees her. Gossips said that he stopped caring about his kid when his wife died. Well, my job was to find out Williamson's greatest weakness in order to blackmail him.

I got to know him through golf, of all things. I "accidentally" sliced my ball into his pathway. Whoops, silly me. We got to talking for a long while. We said goodnight and promised to call each other. After that, we were inseparable. A few months went by, and he finally popped the question. All this time I had never met his kid, although he talked about her from time to time. Her name was Amy Pearl Williamson. She got excellent grades, and she participated in the girls' rugby team. He never talked to me about her; even when I tried to pursue the subject, he drifted off onto another topic. Meanwhile, my little gang had been pressuring me to find out what he would give everything up for. I asked him one evening when he was a little drunk what his greatest possession was; he answered, "My daughter of course. I love her more than I love life. You and she are my reasons to keep on living." Sufficed to say, I was shocked. Then, in came all the guilt. Every horrible thing I had ever done came crashing down on me like some tidal wave. I'd even felt seasick at the time. However, that was one of the times I couldn't let my conscience get in the way of a job. That's all he was; another job to get finished, right?

No sooner had I told the leader of our burglary team of Williamson's weakness she had gotten the little girl. We sent ransom notes to Bryce, and, well, the seasick feeling came back ten-fold. Those days I barely remember. I felt cold and clammy all the time, and I couldn't shake off a feeling of . . . despair. Then, everything went _wrong_. We scheduled the switch: the ten billion dollars for Amy-I mean-the kid. It was supposed to be clean and neat; no loose ends or anything. But as soon as I saw Bryce-God!-he looked wretched and weary. He looked haggard; he had a waxy sheen to his face and he looked . . . drained. He looked up at me and asked me where Amy was. I couldn't answer him to save my life. One of the women named Trudy behind me said, "Aw, lookit him. Ain't he a softy? Well, don't you worry hon. Your brat's right here." All at once he lit up and looked for her. Amy was dragged over a few feet from Bryce, and she was bawling her eyes out. Then, Bryce moved towards her too soon and a shot went off-there was so much screaming-and soon I was left alone. With two bodies: one little girl and her father.

Bryce Williamson's Last Will and Testament deeded everything to me in the event that Amy-no-the kid should predecease me. I didn't much care, though. I don't know why. I felt so empty after everything, but it doesn't make sense. It was just a job. I got paid at the end, and I didn't have to share; I never heard from my crew since that night. So why do I feel empty? I think I know, but I don't want to think right now. I just want to lie down for a bit. But I have a question: why didn't he wait? Huh? Why didn't he wait for the exchange to go through? Why couldn't he wait that second longer? Why-no, never mind. It doesn't help. It never helps. Forget about it.


End file.
